Things Fall Apart
by Digital Skitty
Summary: -side stories to Dark Knight & White Knight- A collection of valuable insights to the inner workings of a shinobi's mind.
1. I Hope It Looks Like You

Konan found out she was pregnant quite by accident. But it hadn't been an accident when she obliterated half of the top floor of the tower in her panic. It took both Madara and Pein to restrain her. And she had only carelessly mentioned that her period was late this month, when her partner had dragged her off to Madara to get a 'check-up'. He took one look at her and proclaimed her to be pregnant with that bizarre Sharingan of his. She didn't dare question it, but instead skipped denial and joy and headed right into the panic phase.

After a few days, when she had been kept under lock, key and watchful gaze, Konan had calmed down enough to rationalize her situation. Obviously she would have to abort. She couldn't just have a _kid_, for gods' sakes! No doubt she'd be the worst mother on the planet, anyway. And she didn't even _want_ to imagine Pein as any sort of father figure.

But the first time she'd mentioned finding a suitable medic to perform it, Pein had looked at her with what could only be described as alarm. "You're going to kill the baby?" He had asked her this with a completely straight face, a small sliver of alarm still present in his grey eyes. She could have laughed at him--and in fact, she did. He _wanted_ her to keep it? It was a hilarious thought.

But he didn't think so. He looked away when she laughed, but it wasn't for a few days afterward that she finally figured out what the alarm had shifted to. He had looked hurt. Pein, the illustrious leader (at least as far as anyone else knew) of the equally infamous Akatsuki, looked hurt because she had told him she'd wanted to get rid of an accident.

Only instead of laughing this time, she cried.

The next day, she was utterly defeated with the subject. She couldn't deny him a child if he actually _wanted_ the thing. Konan was just scared she'd mess up somewhere along the line--miscarriage, accident, even raising the kid--and then he'd be disappointed. Or if she'd become a liability to the organization. Right now it was all fine and good, but she wouldn't be able to fight very well six months from now!

But regardless of her secret fears and worries, Konan went to face her partner with a straight face. She only had one last thing to say to him, to see just how much he wanted this kid. "It's going to look like Yahiko."

Pein just levelly stared back at her. "I know. I hope it looks like you, though."

And that was the end of that.

Even if the next day he changed bodies.


	2. Little Red Riding Hood

There was not a soul alive aside from Sasori himself who knew anything of his past. Regardless, here it is, as best as it could be compiled.

-.-.-

Sasori had been born into a happy little family. He was an only child, his parents were very much in love, and his grandmother positively doted on him. He was a spoiled child, but not to the point where it would mar his personality. His life was very sheltered as well, but mostly, it was just happy.

His grandmother was a retired ninja, well-liked and respected by everyone. She occasionally advised the village council on matters concerning foreign relations, but otherwise lived a quiet life at home, taking care of Sasori when his parents went off on missions.

But one day, when he was just five, all of that changed. His parents were off on a mission again--he barely understood the concept, let alone the danger it posed to his world--and it was a day like any other when his grandmother came home crying. Sasori didn't understand it. He was just trying to color a picture for his mother when she returned, and his grandmother picking him up and hugging him so tightly that he could barely breathe kind of impeded that process. He just politely asked her to let go of him, because he really wanted to get done with this picture before his mother got home.

When his grandmother just kept crying, the young boy had the tact to ask her what was wrong.

Sasori never got quite a straight answer, but by the time he was six, he knew that his parents weren't ever coming back.

Around that time it was that he first claimed any sort of interest in the actual affairs of shinobi, and conspired to beg his grandmother to let him enter into the academy. She of course said no, and Sasori used the only weapon readily available to six-year-olds: pouting. He stayed cooped up in his room for nearly a week, sighing and moping around, before he got any sort of result.

His grandmother just took him aside and told him that he couldn't be a very good ninja without a signature jutsu, and taught him how to create and utilize puppets. He was smart enough to realize that this was also so he'd get his mind off of the fact that he was being raised by his grandmother, and not his parents, like other children. But he didn't really care about that. Yes, he missed his mother and father dearly, but a child's memory isn't the strongest, and already time was wearing down their features in his mind's eye. The only picture he had of them--besides the ones he'd drawn, of course--was when he was still an infant. He remembered that his mother had cut her hair sometime after that, but Sasori decided that he liked her better with longer hair. He liked long hair.

His skills grew exponentially, before and after he entered into the academy. He created puppets lifelike enough to pass as people.

That was when Sasori met the Sandaime Kazekage, for the first time, in person.

He was completely and utterly amazed. One might say enamored. Either way, it quickly became an obsession. Sasori couldn't figure out _how_ the iron sand ability worked, how the Kazekage could control it. And of course the Kazekage wouldn't dare tell him. But Sasori wanted a puppet like that. He wanted one _so_ very badly.

It had been an accident, mostly.

It was on a mission, in which his partner had died. It had been a somewhat pretty blonde girl, and he had suddenly been inspired.

It was on that day that Sasori made the first step to being the man he was today. First, he discovered art. His puppets _were_ art, he'd just never consciously realized that before. And that art was immortal; it outlasted his partner, didn't it? His puppets wouldn't die, no matter how many times they got stabbed, or how old they got. They couldn't get sick or poisoned. They would never die. They were…eternal.

Secondly, he discovered what he could do to the human body.

He made his first human puppet on that day, out of the corpse of his recently deceased partner. It was a sloppy, messy job, since he couldn't drain all of the blood, and her wounds had made things difficult, but when he returned to Sunagakure with a new summoning scroll and informed the Kazekage that his partner's body had been lost on the mission, Sasori knew he had done something that no other person had ever attempted before.

When Sasori was staring at the blonde girl's puppet--it stared listlessly back--he was already formulating vague concepts of plans and half-baked ideas for another human puppet.

He was still thinking of the Sandaime Kazekage.

It took nearly a year, but with more experimenting, more human puppets, and more refining of his skills, Sasori had his puppet.

He had to do the process in a cave a few kilometers south of the village--while all of the villagers were in an uproar--but it was absolutely perfect. The Sandaime was dead, but his body, and his amazing iron sand, was still here. It was still alive. In a sense, anyway. The twelve-year-old hugged his new favorite puppet, ignoring what he'd been through to acquire it. And what he'd just been forced to give up.

He couldn't go back to the village, of course. He never could. Even if no one knew it was him, it wouldn't take long for someone to figure it out. And plus, how could he use his new, favorite weapon, where everyone in the whole village was looking for it?

So armed with nothing more than a mere half of his puppet collection and a red, conspicuously Suna uniform, Sasori left Sunagakure and wandered aimlessly out into the desert. If it had been during the day, he never would have gotten away, no matter how skilled he was. But the darkness--and a bit of luck--was on his side.

He had decided to stop at one of the towns on the southern border of the Land of Wind, early at dawn, to try to get some sleep and wash the blood off of himself. If he hadn't stopped there, more than likely he would have been captured by Suna ANBU.

And, of course, the first thing the young ninja did was go to the nearest bar and get completely drunk. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd just done to their village _leader_, of all people, and Sasori only hoped he wouldn't have nightmares for the rest of his life. He was only slightly amused that the barkeeper sold him several drinks without even asking his age, though there was no way he looked old enough to be legal.

It was at that bar that Sasori first met Kakuzu.

The redhead sat bolt upright when the massive man sat down on the stool beside him. Sasori really couldn't help but stare at him, but the man didn't bat an eye in his direction. After the initial shock wore off, and since he didn't say anything, Sasori sullenly turned back to his drink.

Several alcoholic beverages later, Sasori could hardly sit up straight.

"Hey, kid." The ex-Suna-nin couldn't summon the energy or thought to reply to the man, despite the fact that he was towering over him by a few good feet. His head lolled limply to one side as this mysterious stranger put a hand on his shoulder, and gave him a none-too-gentle shake. "You forgot to wash the blood off of your fucking hands."

Sasori looked down at his hands. It was true. They were still splattered with blood.

"And you might want to get rid of that damn hitai-ate." Sasori didn't question how this man knew he needed to get rid of it. "In fact, I don't even see why you're getting drunk. You're going to have a hangover like hell tomorrow, and you can't run from hunter-nin if you can't get out of bed. You're an idiot, aren't you?"

Sasori looked up at this man with large, brown eyes, somewhat glassy from the alcohol in his system. "I'll kill you if you call me an idiot again." He was still sober enough to be proud that his voice hadn't slurred.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Sasori."

"Well, you're an idiot, Sasori. A little runt like you, wearing a _bright red_ outfit, out on his own? I should kill you just on principle." The man leaned down, so that he was eye-level with the drunk Suna-nin.

Sasori stared at him, refusing to blink. "I'll kill you if you call me an idiot again," he repeated stubbornly. He reached down for the scrolls attached to his belt. Each one summoned a different puppet. With a shiver of excitement running down his spine, Sasori wondered how the Sandaime would fare in actual battle…He hadn't had more time that to test out whether or not the iron sand worked before he had to flee. Luckily, it had. This mysterious man had no idea who he was going to be going up against.

He laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. "You have no idea who I am, do you? The name is Kakuzu." Sasori probably should have been alarmed when a good portion of the bar stood up and left at that point. "I'm a bounty hunter, but since you're just a stupid little runt, I don't feel the need to waste energy on killing you. Maybe if you grew up a bit and killed a few high-class people, I'll come back to visit you one day. Idiot."

Sasori threw a punch, but his fist was caught easily. He nearly growled. "Sh-Shut up! You're the idiot and I've already killed the Kazekage!!"

The rest of the bar promptly cleared out. No one liked to be caught in a ninja fight.

Kakuzu went very still, and very quiet. He was staring down at the drunken Sasori with those strange, inverted eyes of his. Sasori stared defiantly back, holding out his newest scroll already. He couldn't remember when he'd got that out, but at least it was at the ready now. Just a bite of the thumb, and he'd have his beloved Sandaime out and he would kill whoever this stupid Kakuzu guy was. It wasn't like he'd ever heard of him, with the sheltered life he'd led until then.

"…So little red riding hood has a few skills, huh?" Kakuzu tilted his head to one side, laughing again. Sasori bristled at the nickname.

"I'm not--"

"No, I guess you're not. You don't look feminine enough. But you've got the red outfit down."

-.-.-

It was several years later when Sasori saw Kakuzu again. This time, the bounty hunter had tracked him down. Sasori could say that he was almost expecting him; he'd accomplished quite a bit in the way of murdering people since they last spoke. Kakuzu approached him, wearing a bizarre outfit that was completely unsuited for the hot, arid land between the two Lands of Earth and Wind. It was nearly to his knees in length, with long sleeves, and an absurdly high collar. It was completely black, aside from red clouds outlined in white on it.

"Hey, little red runt. Sasori of the Red Sand, isn't it, now?"

"Yes, it is."

"I practically came up with that title. You should be thanking me."

"Thank you." Sasori replied impassively. He wasn't going to lose his temper again.

Kakuzu looked miffed that his bait wasn't taken. Instead, he turned away, and pretended to study a nearby rock. "I've been sent with a…proposition for you."

"You're not here to kill me? I know I have a fairly large bounty on my head." What he hadn't been expecting was this. He was expecting to fight, and to win, and turn Kakuzu into one of his puppets. It wouldn't even come close to his favorite, but it would be an interesting marionette nonetheless.

"I'm not allowed to kill you." That was even odder. Not allowed to? Rogue ninja didn't _follow_ rules. And what was with his outfit? Sasori had a sinking feeling that something wasn't right here. Kakuzu watched flatly as a little white snake slithered over his sandal, twitching a little. "There is a new organization of ninja. The Akatsuki. They're hellishly strong, all of the members so far. The--ah--_leader_ wants you to join."

"Why me?" Sasori asked calmly. But he was beginning to get nervous. He didn't like the prospect of a group of shinobi--wasn't that just like the villages? He didn't deal well with villages. Not to mention the fact that he just plain didn't get along with most other ninja these days. Ever since he defected, he'd became more and more antisocial.

"You're well connected. You're strong." Kakuzu shrugged, and then turned his inverted eyes back to Sasori. "I've seen you do things to a human body I never would have imagined."

"You've been following me."

"Yes. We have."

"Kakuzu, I don't like him." a new voice suddenly announced. Sasori looked around him, thinking that it was some sort of ambush. Instead, Kakuzu sighed and rolled his eyes. "He's too young for this group."

"Excuse me, but I'm fourteen. I hardly think that that's _young_." the redhead replied to the unknown voice. Then, he caught sight of the little white snake that was coiled on Kakuzu's sandal.

The snake raised its head, and spoke. "You're too young."

"Leader-sama thinks that he'll fit in. He's going to be your partner, Orochimaru."

"And that's precisely why I don't like him." the snake sniffed primly, turning away.

Sasori couldn't believe he was going to start arguing with such a little snake, but here he was. "If my 'partner' is going to be a stupid little snake, I certainly don't want to join this Akatsuki of yours." He smiled thinly. "I don't play well with others."

"Neither do I." the snake hissed, fixing its lidless glare on him. Sasori felt like he should be somewhat annoyed that a snake was talking down to him, but he couldn't quite summon the necessary emotion. "Kakuzu," Now it sounded like the serpent was _whining_, "let's just go. I don't like him. He's too young and he has no idea how the world works. Entirely too naïve."

"Impressive, if laughable, comments coming from such a tiny snake." The Suna puppeteer kept the fake smile on his face.

And that was how Sasori met Orochimaru and was inducted into the Akatsuki. Granted, he had to be knocked out and literally dragged back to their lair, but he joined the organization regardless. There were only five members (that he knew of): himself, Kakuzu, Orochimaru, a plant-looking man named Zetsu who mostly kept to himself, and the shadowy Leader.

Sasori didn't particularly care about most of them, however. Kakuzu and him got along fairly well, though Kakuzu often would threaten to kill him. Which was nearly impossible, considering some of the modifications he'd made to his own body since he left Sunagakure. But all the same, he'd learned rather quickly that he didn't want to get into a fight with anyone sporting the same uniform as him.

What really caught Sasori's attention was Orochimaru.

His partner was aloof, cool and distant toward him. He was one of the Sannin--some group of highly skilled shinobi from the Leaf. Sasori didn't quite grasp the concept of the title, but he knew that Orochimaru was strong. More than once, in the first year or so, he'd been beaten bloody for an offhand comment or some insult. He had an insane amount of chakra, and could summon snakes in ways that he never would have dreamed of. Orochimaru collected jutsus, and knew far more than anyone else in the organization, though sometimes Kakuzu would hotly deny that.

Moreover, Orochimaru was just _beautiful_. Almost feminine, but not quite, making him seem more dangerous than he probably was. Long, pure black hair, which contrasted startlingly with his paper-white skin. He would have looked monochromatic if it wasn't for his golden eyes and purple rings around them. He spoke quietly, and quite politely, though he continually called Sasori 'Sasori-chan' until the Suna-nin punched him in the stomach.

For all of his beauty and skills, however, Orochimaru was hopelessly vain. He would constantly mutter to himself things about 'filthy bodies' and related items, which puzzled Sasori, though not unduly. The Sannin would just stare into a mirror sometimes, not even bothering to adjust his hair or clothes like some kunoichi tended to do, but just…_stare_. Contemplating, thinking, probably wishing for some perfect world where blood would actually look _good_ when it stained clothes.

The missions they were sent on were mundane, bloody, boring things, like single assassinations and spying. Sure, they paid well, but it was a common consensus among the members that their talents were being wasted.

Then, their lives were turned upside down.

Kakuzu got his own partner--a very flirtatious, irritating kunoichi named Yukari--and murdered her in cold blood on their second mission. When questioned about it, he just replied that she had annoyed him. Every partner he had after that met a matching fate. Sasori and Orochimaru were both suddenly glad that they had been put together, instead of with Kakuzu.

But then, they almost met a similar fate. In the form of a Kumo-nin named Yutaka.

By the time he was done with them, they were sent scampering back to the laid with their tails tucked between their legs and nursing various wounds. Sasori had since then converted both arms into puppet limbs; they got injured far too often on missions, after all; he quickly learned to apply the same principles to his legs. He was practically more puppet than human by now, but that didn't particularly bother him.

That was when he learned Orochimaru's secret.

_He was immortal_.

Sasori learned first-hand how he switched bodies (and was nearly the victim of such an exchange). Sure, there were stipulations, but unless you outright killed him on the battlefield, there was no way that Orochimaru would _ever_ die. He would live forever, just as true art should.

But…that didn't seem fair. _Sasori_ was the artist, not Orochimaru. Orochimaru didn't even know what art _was_. He scoffed at all of the redhead's ideals and puppets, and just stuck to admiring himself and his jutsus. So why should someone so ignorant about fine art get to reap its benefits?

Sasori decided then that being human was overrated, anyway.

It was a bit tricky to perform the operation to turn the rest of his organic body into wood and wire and chakra, but he managed to pull it off. He hadn't done anything so bloody since creating his marionette of the Kazekage, and he probably would have thrown up at the site of it--if his stomach wasn't lying in a pile with the rest of his useless human organs on the operating table. Still, he gagged, which was actually quite painful, since he didn't have any of the things necessary to make such a thing needed. Sasori practically fell off of the table, careful to ignore his cooling body parts.

He stumbled and fell forward onto the stone floor, his body feeling as if it were lead. Which was silly, since wood was lighter than flesh and blood anyway…Sasori felt his eyes closing.

When he reopened them, he was still face-down on the floor. Blood had slowly dripped off of the table and had made a puddle in the middle of the floor, and he was annoyed to see that a large portion of it had dried on his legs and feet.

Sasori shakily got up, looking around blearily. His mind was told that he was in pain--but that was impossible. Wood didn't feel pain. Only nerve receptors could feel pain, and that was just a body's defense mechanism…it was probably just a phantom pain.

He later found out that it hadn't been phantom pain. His heart--or rather, his chakra--had tried to compensate for the lack of body and filled the wooden joints and limbs with that chakra, giving his mind the sensation of pain, with or without nerves. Of course, Sasori didn't find this out until much later and much experimenting with his new body, though he did figure out that in the same way, he could use his chakra to give him the sensation of touch again.

Sasori leaned heavily on the wall, panting. Again, his mind scolded him; he didn't have a respiratory system, so why the hell would he need more oxygen? The puppeteer chalked that up to psychological trauma, and his body's remaining needs to feel _human_. In other words, useless, human habit. He'd have to break that.

Sasori wobbly walked over to the full-length mirror. He couldn't believe what he saw.

For all intents and purposes, he was a living puppet. He was more than his Kazekage, Hiruko, or any of his other beloved puppets. He was all wood and metal and wire--and the cylinder that was his heart, still located fondly in his chest. He made a mental note to reinforce its defenses later on. Sasori experimentally moved his arms, watching the way the artificial socket rotated smoothly, and in many more directions than his elbow normally would have allowed him.

Without wanting to, Sasori started smiling. His mouth barely turned upward, but as he continued to examine his new body, it grew wider and wider until it was a full grin. It was more than a grin; it was completely mentally unstable. In some small corner of his mind, Sasori realized that, and ignored it. Who cared? He now had years--no, decades, _centuries_--to come to terms with the psychological impacts of what this might have done to his mind. He was too busy basking in the glory of being _art_.

-.-.-

After his operation, Sasori calmed down tremendously. Maybe it was just the lack of hormones, but he didn't feel as angry or temperamental as he used to. Except around Orochimaru.

"You shouldn't be doing that." Sasori lost count of how many times he had to tell his partner that.

"I don't care. Who's going go to stop me? Leader-sama? He's a shadow. Besides, it's all just harmless fun…" Orochimaru would answer every time. And then he'd laugh, that light, airy chuckle that he loved to do. Sasori mostly ignored his deviation, and instead worked on his own missions. And tried to ignore the fact that Orochimaru was right.

The more and more he thought about it, Sasori knew that Orochimaru was right about a lot of things. Leader-sama _was_ nothing more than a shadow. Kakuzu was certainly doing whatever he wanted without reprimand; he had to be on his third or fourth partner by now. Zetsu was hardly seen any more.

So Sasori decided to just let his partner be--while quietly plotting to turn him into his next masterpiece. The Suna-nin couldn't deny it any longer. He hadn't been this obsessed about a person since the Kazekage, and that had ended _so_ nicely… Orochimaru would be a perfect puppet. A huge collection of jutsus at his disposal. And all of those things he could do with his snakes…Sasori often wondered if they would be carried over into a puppet.

But before Sasori could ever have his chance at creating his new favorite puppet, Orochimaru defected from the group. Not _officially_, but close enough. He went off to live on his own, only coming back for a mission or two when he felt like it. He carried out his experiments in peace, regardless of the Akatsuki's wishes. He hadn't even captured his Bijuu yet!

Not that Sasori blamed him.

Because after what Leader-sama just pulled, he felt like ditching as well.

The leader turned out to be a _kid_. Or rather, the previous leader had selected this kid to fill his role until he could come up with a better role for himself. There was just no way that this child could be the leader of their organization.

The kid had limp, dark hair that constantly fell into his eyes, and he was always moping around for some reason or another. A nervous-looking, blue-haired girl followed him incessantly, clinging to him as she shrunk from view from the gazes of the other members. Their names were Pein and Konan, and they really were little more than children. Sasori couldn't believe that the leader tried to pass these two off as the next members of the Akatsuki.

Still, as long as they didn't get in his way, Sasori didn't find himself caring much, one way or another. He was too busy stewing in his own anger at Orochimaru's betrayal. Every time he was assigned on a mission with the Sannin, he rejected it and told him to go on it by himself, and hoped fervently that he'd get killed. It never happened, but Sasori was still holding out for it.

In a fit of rage--almost jealousy--Sasori sent one of his best spies into Orochimaru's ranks. He needed to know what his partner was up to, after all. And Kabuto was certainly up for the job. And if not, oh well. He was just a boy; there were plenty of them out there.

Life progressed like that. Sasori would hate Orochimaru, hate him for leaving him there in the Akatsuki, and this kid would pretend to be the leader. Kakuzu killed another of his partners, and a new member, Kisame, soon joined up as well.

Then they got Itachi, and soon after him, Tobi. Pein had progressed--_somehow_--into a spiky, orange-haired young man, with too many piercings to be comfortable, and ordered them all around with a comfortable ease. Konan, too, matured within the Akatsuki, and soon came into her own with her origami skills. Sasori didn't like how many kids were in the group these days, but it's not like he could really comment. Only Kakuzu and Orochimaru knew about his puppet body, so to all of the others, he probably just seemed like a child as well.

And then, one day, Sasori got the news that Pein's latest pet project actually succeeded in something. Orochimaru was dead. And now this kid would be joining as his replacement.

Sasori held a mock funeral for his dead partner, mostly for the memory of the puppet he never got to have. While they waited for this newbie to catch up with them, he just inserted Kabuto into the little group to keep an eye on him. He didn't want another Orochimaru fiasco.

When Sasori finally met Deidara, for the first time, face-to-face, he suddenly didn't miss Orochimaru at all anymore.


	3. My Love Lies Here

Shinobi rule twenty-five stated that under no circumstances were shinobi ever, _ever_ allowed to shed a tear or otherwise show their emotions. So Kakashi stared impassively at the freshly dug hole in the ground, refusing to think of it as a grave. Because it wasn't a grave. It was just a hole in the ground. It didn't have a headstone, or a coffin, or even a shroud for the body--no, for _Kabuto_. Kakashi refused to think of him as just another casualty of this pointless, one-sided war. He wasn't like the masses dying on the other side of the village.

Now, with that hole in the ground, he had to somehow turn this into a proper grave. One befitting of the corpse that would inhabit it. A headstone would be needed, then. Maybe a coffin, though he didn't know how he'd be able to do that. A winding sheet, at the very least. First, though, a headstone. It'd have to have something fitting, though Kakashi couldn't see a way around the name issue. If any Konoha-nin ever found it, they'd be sure to defile and destroy the body if they knew who was in it. Kabuto couldn't be named, then…

The Copy-nin found a suitable stone not far from the hole in the ground. He dug it up, and hauled it back to the site, and set about to reburying it. He then took out a kunai, and thought for a long time about what he would inscribe on it. It had to do him justice. Kabuto was--had been--a remarkable person, ninja, spy; anything he wanted to do, he excelled at. That surely deserved mention, didn't it?

Kakashi heard someone step up behind him. He didn't turn around, because he had a feeling who it might be. A feeling, nothing more. Under normal circumstances, he never would have just stayed with his back to a potential enemy, but he was still trying to think of something to put on the tombstone.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see a black cloak with red clouds. So it was him, then. Kakashi ignored him, and dragged his finger over the point of the kunai, giving it a bit of a chakra edge. It'd cut through the stone faster.

Silently he painstakingly wrote each letter, each word, each line. Kakashi knew that if Kabuto was still here he'd probably scoff at such time and energy wasted on a grave; after all, why bother? Everyone died, and if everyone died, everyone would have to get their own tombstone. That added up to a lot of them, which would just be a monumental waste of energy. In ten years, no one would remember them, anyway.

But Kabuto _wasn't_ here. He wasn't going to be here ever again. So Kakashi did things his way.

When he was done, he stood up, and admired his handiwork. Now the hole in the ground had a rock in front of it, with some words written on it. The jounin turned to look at Kabuto's body. It had been covered. A shroud had been donated.

Sasori looked at him out of the corner of his eye, daring him to comment about the new use he found for his uniform. Kakashi thought it oddly fitting; Kabuto had served the Akatsuki--indirectly--for much of his life. "I see you're not crying, Copy-nin," Sasori said slowly, shifting his eyes to the covered body at their feet. "I would have thought that something such as Kabuto's death would be deserving of at least a few tears."

"I've already used them all up." Kakashi replied airily, smiling to himself. Sasori let the matter go, and instead continued to stare down at the corpse that had been his favorite spy. He obviously wasn't going to move Kabuto into the hole. Kakashi didn't exactly want to, either. He was sure once he started filling in the hole he'd break down completely.

Kakashi just silently bent down and picked the body wrapped in the Akatsuki cloak up, gingerly and gently, as if doing so mattered anymore. It was already quite cool to the touch. He walked stiffly the few steps to the side of the hole, and then jumped down into it, waiting for the moment where his body would set down Kabuto's body and then they'd bury him. But his body wouldn't listen to the rational part of his brain. He just wanted to continue holding Kabuto, for the final time. Kakashi unconsciously gripped the body a bit tighter, shakily lifting one hand to trace the red seam down the fabric. Underneath, this would be where his hairline was, and his where his glasses would rest if he was wearing them, and his nose, and his lips… Kakashi sighed sadly, and hugged Kabuto close to him. This would be the last time he'd ever get to hold him. Finally, the rational part of his brain said that he'd never leave if he got too attached to the moment. Kakashi carefully and gently set Kabuto down, and climbed back out of the hole, trying to resist going back in for one last goodbye.

Sasori saved him the trouble of having to bury him. He'd already grabbed a shovel, and was already carrying the first shovelful over to the hole. When the first bits of dirt hit the black-clad body, Kakashi had to turn away.

"Kabuto…he really was a good kid. You know, before Orochimaru found him, he'd always send me reports from here. With actual information. Most of it concerned you. And then, once he went to Orochimaru, I never heard a thing about you again." Sasori said slowly, as he continued shoveling the dirt into the grave.

"He…he did that?" Kakashi whispered, closing his eyes.

"Yes. Maybe some day you'd get the chance to read a few of them."

"Kabuto…he was…" He couldn't get out any more than that. He simply couldn't. Kakashi felt the tears slide down his cheeks, and he hastily brought up a wrist to wipe them away. His hand then stayed on his mouth, trying to keep some semblance of silence and dignity. "H-He was…"

"I know." Sasori put the last pile of dirt on the mound, tamping it down slightly. "I've never attended a funeral before, so I'm not sure if there's something else to do. Unless you want to say a few words?"

Kakashi opened his mouth to speak, but instead just cried harder. He quickly shut his mouth again, and shook his head.

Sasori nodded, and stared at the headstone as he spoke next. "I suppose I'll do the honors. Kabuto…I'm sorry. I hope you're finally at peace. Thank you for all of your help, even if most of it was involuntary. You were still one of my best and favorite spies. It was a mistake to send you to Orochimaru, and I…I'm sorry for that."

Sasori's take on Kabuto was completely different from his own. But that was to be expected. Kakashi had known a whole different side of the medic, of course. Kabuto had been fantastically good at his job, completely separating his work and 'life' in Konoha until Kakashi began to tear the walls down for him. Still, he couldn't help but wonder…if Sasori had never sent him to Orochimaru…would he still be alive now? Would he have turned out differently?

"I thought you couldn't cry any more." Sasori said in a flat voice. He said it with an air of continuation, so it took a few moments for it to register in the Copy-nin's mind that he was now talking to him again.

"I…thought I had. Don't patronize me right now, Sasori."

"…When Konoha retaliates against Ame, maybe if you survive long enough, I'll show you his mission reports. Otherwise I'm going to burn them. But he really was quite devoted to you, you know."

-.-.-

"_My love lies here,__  
He cheated all, even death.__  
But death, as we know, does not lose easily.__  
My love was mortal; he died.  
I miss him."_

-.-.-

A day later, in the midst of the chaos that was post-war Konoha, no one noticed a new name appear on the Cenotaph. Yakushi Kabuto, scrawled near the bottom in an uneven handwriting.

-.-.-

CREDIT: So effing much of this funeral was created by/thought of by/leeched off of Eithne (eith on here--go read nao plz -insert command here-). Here's the credit where it's due. (She's the KakaKabu goddess, by the by. I couldn't have thought up even _half_ of this stuff without her.)


	4. First And Foremost Was His Brother

Kisame knew more about Itachi than probably anyone else alive, save for the Uchiha himself. He knew all about his family, especially Sasuke, his life back in Konohagakure, stuck between the village and clan. He knew the reasons behind the infamous massacre, and why his partner had fled rather than ask the Hokage for assistance. Maybe most importantly, at least with how things stood now, Kisame knew why Itachi had joined the Akatsuki.

And he had learned all these things from a very unexpected source: Itachi himself.

Kisame had a feeling that other members knew bits and pieces. Konan quite obviously knew that Itachi was more attached to Sasuke than he let on, but just as obviously, she didn't know the depth of that devotion. Tobi would drop hints that he knew more about the Uchiha clan than anyone else did. Once in a long while, Pein would remark upon something concerning Konoha, just to see Itachi's reaction.

Of course, that didn't matter much anymore. Konoha was all but destroyed. Its shinobi force was decimated. It had lost all three Sannin, over half of its jounin, and all of the Uchiha and most of the Hyuuga in one giant blow. What most of the other members didn't realize was that once he became a missing-nin, Itachi really _didn't_ care about the village anymore. He was solely devoted to three things in life.

The first and foremost was his brother. It was almost _obvious_, but yet, somehow, no one else ever seemed to catch on to that.

The second was Kisame. In a way, at least. (The Kiri-nin liked to pretend that that's how it worked in Itachi's mind, but he knew it was all just pretending anyway.) Itachi was dead set on staying alive, by any means possible. That meant that he had to care about Kisame, because Kisame was the one watching his back. Truthfully, Itachi really just did care about extending his lifespan, just long enough to see his brother for that last, epic battle. Sasuke would win, of course, but Itachi had to stay alive long enough for that. He'd never forgive himself if he died on a mission or something.

The third was whatever mission he was on at the time. Itachi _loved_ missions, loved them with a manic kind of desperation. Because if he was on a mission, it meant he didn't have to _think_. Of course, all shinobi operate that way on some level, but, like with all he did, Itachi did that flawlessly. If he was fighting for his life, then he didn't have to _think_ about staying alive. He didn't have to _think_ about waiting for his brother. Itachi completely dedicated himself to whatever mission he was on at the time.

Which was why he was furious when Tobi took the Kyuubi from him.

The Kyuubi had been his one, _big_ mission. And because of Konoha, he didn't get to properly complete it. Kisame would try to console him, but Itachi would just wave him off, and go back to his pacing. (Something else most people didn't know about Uchiha Itachi: he liked to pace.)

"Kisame, I am going to try an experiment."

"Meaning you've already started it and you're just now letting me in on the details." Kisame clarified. His partner paused for a brief moment, mid-step, and then nodded. "So…does it concern me this time?"

"No…not directly, at least."

"If not me, then Tobi?"

"No." Itachi replied coldly, stopping his pacing altogether. Tobi would always make him angry, which was partly why Kisame secretly relished bringing him up in casual conversation. In addition to his knowledge, Kisame was one of the few people alive who could evoke so many different reactions with Itachi.

"Who, then? Surely not Sasuke. Konan would murder you."

"Not directly." he said slowly, sitting down on the bed. "Mostly it's the Hyuuga girl."

"Oh. …Deidara's not going to be happy with that." he pointed out.

"Deidara's not happy with much of anything these days. Moreover, he won't even know. It's not a particularly harmful experiment."

"Then what _is_ it?" Kisame asked impatiently.

"Just something for my own benefit."

"Does it involve why you gave her Kisho."

"Of course."

"Then I have a few guesses."

"Chances are one of them is correct."

"Going to let me in on which one?"

"No, probably not. But if she ever finds out about Kisho, don't be alarmed."

"You _want_ her to find out you gave her a talking cat for her birthday? You're crazy."

"Tobi will stop her from coming to me about it."

"How do you know that? You haven't let him in on this, have you?" Kisame groaned at the very thought. Like Itachi, he couldn't stand that hyperactive, masked freak.

"No, of course not. But he won't want her to find out because it will concern _me_." While the swordsman was wondering where the logic was in that statement, Itachi smoothly continued. "Regardless, without me to ask, there is only one other person whom she has a connection with that she could ask."

"…Sasuke? You want her to go to _Sasuke_?"

"I'm not saying that." he said innocently (if Itachi could pull off such a feat as acting innocent). "Besides, the chances that she'll actually contact him are highly unlikely."

"Then…" While Kisame was usually left in the dark about some things, he was _not_ stupid. He could put two and two together. It just took awhile to come up with the same four that Itachi did. "Oh _hell_ no."

Itachi stared levelly at him over tented fingers, not saying anything.

Kisame scooted his chair back, making a screeching noise that grated on both of their ears. "Don't tell me _you're_ worried too about this?"

"I didn't say that, either." he deadpanned.

"Yeah, you did. You are going to leave breadcrumbs for Hyuuga Hinata, of all people, in case this whole Bijuu business goes down the drain. You just can't stand to leave Sasuke alone for five minutes, can you?"

The last sentence really crossed the line. Kisame found that out as he was soon staring down the Mangekyou, and he knew he was just a hair's breadth away from being caught in the _Tsukuyomi_. But he wouldn't back down; he meant it. Itachi needed to grow up. Mass murderer or not, he was still just a kid, and acted like it more than most people would think.

"In all honesty, I'm on the fence, Kisame." Itachi said quietly. "On one hand, I don't want to leave Sasuke in the dark. On the other, I know it will be easier for him. I'm just leaving my options open."

"I can't believe you." Kisame muttered. "Whatever happened to the good ol' days when being a missing-nin meant you had no connections and no loyalties?"

"If you wanted to live like that, why did you join the Akatsuki? You're not made to be a loner, Kisame. If it's not the Akatsuki, then it was the Seven Swordsmen. If not that, then Kirigakure itself." Itachi replied, slightly amused at his partner's antics. At least the Sharingan faded back to black, and the Uchiha just rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "You have to stop me from using that as a threat so often…"

"Maybe if you'd stop having to threaten me so often, you'd save yourself some eyesight for a bit longer." he pointed out helpfully. Itachi looked at him flatly, so Kisame decided to drop the subject. The eyes were usually a subject to avoid, like his brother. Again, which was why Kisame liked to bring it up.

"Maybe if you'd stop saying such asinine things I wouldn't have to lose my patience with you."

"Is this experiment perchance about you trying to become more patient?" Kisame tried hopefully.

"No."

"Oh well. In a perfect world, maybe."

"In a perfect world, none of this ever would have happened, and you know it."

"Which makes things more fun. Who needs perfection when we have this group of psychos?"


	5. The Retribution He'd Been Expecting

Daisuke ran. He ran as far as he could, for as long as he could, as fast as he could. He had no idea where he was now, but he knew he had to be far away from Amegakure. Hopefully it'd take awhile for someone to track him down--_if_ they ever did. Ame was severely understaffed after that war, and he doubted Pein would spare anyone to try to find him. One little missing-nin? Not worth the effort.

It was several days later when he finally collapsed. He had only slept once since then, and he had already been exhausted from fighting Sasuke and the war in general. Midori's death took its toll on him, too. Daisuke doggedly kept trying to keep moving, just for something to do, but fatigue caught up with him. He staggered the last few steps his body could take, and then fell against a tree. He pushed himself off, trying to keep going, but just collapsed onto his hands and knees. Then onto his stomach, just lying there. Daisuke's shinobi sense told him he was spent, but he refused to believe it.

So he just lied there, breathing contentedly. It was all he really could do. He didn't even have the energy to try to find something to eat--something he also needed to do, very badly. When he realized this, he just chuckled to himself. _Looks like you're going to die after all, idiot_, he told himself. He had to have known what running for days on end did. All ninja did.

Ruby eyes slid closed, but reopened a moment later. If he fell asleep now, he probably wouldn't wake up for at least twelve or so hours. Depended on whether or not he was still in Ame country; rain would certainly wake him after awhile. And plus, no telling where he actually _was_. He hadn't bothered to check anything more than the fact that he'd been heading north. Daisuke didn't feel like getting his throat slit--or a kunai shoved into his frontal lobe like Midori--by some hostile shinobi.

Even with all of this knowledge and the fact that it would mean he was practically defenseless if someone did happen to come upon him, his eyes slid closed once more. And this time, it took a few moments before they reopened. Daisuke sighed, and then closed them for the last time.

-.-.-

There was warmth. And a bright--something. He wasn't sure what it was. It seemed to converge on one point, however, so Daisuke just stubbornly turned his head away from the source. There, much better. Aside from an annoyingly wet _something_ now stuck to his cheek.

Eventually, he opened his eyes. (After _much_ internal arguing about whether or not he really wanted to interrupt his slumber.) The first thing he realized that the light was (no surprise here) the sun. Daisuke groaned and sluggishly lifted an arm to place over his eyes, shielding them. Where was his sunglasses when he needed them…

The second thing he realized was that there was someone standing over him. It took a few moments for it to penetrate the haze of sleep, but when it did, he bolted upright. He nearly collided with the stranger, already reaching down to his leg for a kunai. His fingers scratched on nothing but the fabric of his pants. Before he could even get a good glance at this person, his gaze snapped down to his leg. His kunai pouch was gone.

And, feeling on his head, his sunglasses where, too. What else was missing?!

Whoever it was spoke. Daisuke froze, expecting retribution for Midori's death, but then he realized that he had no idea what it was that the person said. It was definitely a kid, at least. He leaned back down, looking up at the person. The kid, a scrawny little brunette (he honestly couldn't tell the gender from appearance alone) was wearing his sunglasses, and holding up his kunai pouch curiously. It said something else, and, after getting no response from the jounin, said slowly and with a thick accent, "Shinobi."

"Yeah. Can I have that back now?" he asked, holding out his hand for the weapons. (And his shades, damn it. That was his favorite pair.)

The kid shook its head stubbornly, backing up a few steps and clutching the pouch to its chest. It said something else in that foreign language of its, and Daisuke had to wonder _how_ far north he had really gone. Was he even still in Rain country?

"Shinobi," the kid repeated.

"Yeah, I'm a freaking ninja. Now give me back my stuff before I have to show you what that means for unfortunate little kids like you."

"Ame shinobi?" the genderless child asked warily, turning slightly. It almost looked as if it were hiding the kunai from him. Did it really think that depriving Daisuke of a few knives would protect it?

Though he didn't know how to answer, now. For all intents and purposes, he should just kill the kid, get his stuff back, and be on his merry way. But there was just something about the way it moved, the way it was so careful, the way he could almost see the eyes behind the dark lenses.

"…Sure, let's go with that."

"From Ame? City of Ame?"

Great, apparently the kid wanted specifics. "Yeah…"

"There is war there. Here, too."

"Pretty much everywhere."

"War in Ame is over? Why else would shinobi be here?"

"War is over. I mean--the war is over." Now he was even talking like the scraggly little thing. "Pein-sama won, blah blah blah. War--_the_ war is over and the world is safe." Isn't that what the Akatsuki had been preaching about their leader? Close enough, he supposed.

The kid's face broke out into a dazzling smile. Daisuke felt a bit blindsided; had he just unwittingly become some child's idol for bringing such news? He didn't need hero worship right now. He needed some information.

But this would work to his advantage… "Hey, kid." It looked up at him, still clutching his kunai pouch and wearing his sunglasses. "Are we still in Ame territory? Rain land?"

"Yes."

"Do you come from a village or something?" He hoped so. A quiet little out-of-the-way village would be perfect right now. Somewhere to hole up until this thing blew over.

"Yes. Not far." And then, suddenly, Daisuke was being dragged through the damp undergrowth by this kid who _still_ had his stuff, tugged towards a potentially hostile village he knew nothing about. Shinobi training took over, and he stopped, pulling hard on the kid's wrist. It fell to the ground, unbalanced by the sudden halt. "Why?"

"You move really well, you know that?" Daisuke remarked shrewdly, narrowing red eyes. "Are _you_ a ninja?"

"No! Sister is, though. She is good shinobi." He didn't bother correcting the kid that if it was a girl, it'd be a kunoichi. "She in war, too! But now war is over, so sister come back to visit!"

At least it'd make sense. An older sibling would have taught a few tricks to a younger one. It happened all the time. "I'll take your word for it, kid." He knew how younger siblings were. The girl was probably a genin or maybe chuunin, off to battle in Ame for a bit. She'd be lucky if she came back at all. He swallowed nervously, and hope he didn't have to see some family wrecked because of a kunoichi he didn't know. That'd be terrible. But at the same time, if some girl came back from Ame and recognized him, then there would be dire consequences.

"Aoko."

"Huh?"

"My name. Aoko."

"Oh…right." So this thing was a little girl, then? Or maybe a little boy with a girl's name. That'd be funny…Daisuke gave himself a little shake of the head. "I'm…Daisuke. Can I have my stuff back now?"

The little brunette girl looked down at the kunai pouch in her small hands, frowning. She looked back up at him for a moment, and then back down. Apparently it was a tough decision. Daisuke put his hands on his hips, tapping his foot. The girl was what, ten or so? He could snap her wrist in one hand if need be. So why was he waiting?

"…Yes," she said softly, and then offered the kunai pouch as if it was something sacred. Aoko watched with fascination as he fastened it back to his leg, and then held his hand out for the sunglasses. With a sheepish smile, she took them off, handing them back to him. "It was…for safe. Safety."

"Yeah, I can understand…" Daisuke's voice died in his throat.

Aoko looked up at him with dull green eyes, half-hidden by her brown hair. She smiled blankly, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

-.-.-

Daisuke went with her to her village. He told everyone there--who thankfully all spoke both their odd foreign dialect and the one he spoke--that the war was over, and Ame won. He celebrated with them, though with a hollow feeling inside. He hadn't the heart to tell Aoko that her sister wasn't coming back. Midori wasn't ever coming back.

(And in a way, this was the retribution he'd been expecting. He just wasn't sure how to handle it.)


	6. Off White Wings Of Clay

Hinata was an angel. Deidara was an angel. Each in their own way, but angels nonetheless.

Deidara, rather, had gotten off on a technicality. He couldn't _not_ be an angel. He was born for the skies. He was what you would see when you opened old religious texts; his picture would be there, with the caption, 'angel in human form'. He was beautiful. He was graceful and lovely and talented in ways one could only imagine. He could _fly_.

But Deidara wasn't an angel like Hinata was. Because he was rough, unskilled, devious and murderous. An angel in form, but not quite making the cut in personality.

Sasori overlooked that.

Because where Deidara was rough, it was like a diamond. He just needed polishing. And where he was unskilled, Sasori trained him. He made use of his raw potential. Where Deidara was devious, Sasori could use that to accomplish his own goals. And where Deidara was murderous…Sasori could do nothing about.

Because he loved seeing him covered in blood with that demonic grin on his face.

Hinata was an angel of a different sort. She was the textbook guardian angel. She had the personality and appearance down pat. She was beautiful in a homely, oft overlooked way. She was otherworldly with her ashen eyes and midnight hair. It was like the stars and the night. She cared, too. She _cared_. She cared no matter what you were, angel or demon or human or anything. She could care about anything, and do so with her entire heart, with true sincerity. Sasori sometimes could imagine she had white wings extending from her shoulder blades. He half expected it.

That's why Sasori couldn't stand her.

She was an angel where Deidara couldn't reach. Sasori wanted to strip her of her powers, rip those feathery, white wings from her shoulders, carve the hollow bones from her skin. He wanted to make her _bleed_. He would clip that angel's wings if it killed him.

Because then Deidara wouldn't have something to stand against. He wouldn't be compared to Hinata. He wouldn't be the lesser of the angels.

Sasori could blame himself, then. After all, there is nothing wrong with falling in love with an angel, right? He could place all of the blame on himself and leave Deidara free, free as a bird. Free to be his angelic self. And then he could overlook his rough and unskilled and devious and murderous personality, because Sasori loved all those things about him. He just didn't want Deidara to be blamed for them. He couldn't be blamed for them if he was the only angel left in the cold, cruel world, right?

So Sasori would sleep. And he would dream. Dream of clipping an angel's wings, yanking them out by the sockets, sawing through bone and feather until the wings were stained to match his hair. And he would awake again with no knowledge of these dreams, but with only the desire to see bloody feathers.

But Sasori wasn't entirely noble. He wasn't gallant enough to think of just Deidara, oh no. Some times, Sasori would dream of different things. He would dream of what it felt like to feel those swords pierce his heart and what it felt like to taste the tang of blood for the first time in decades. He would wonder what would have happened if Deidara hadn't stopped it all. Would he be the angel? Would he gain the wings?

Even, sometimes, Sasori dreamt of clipping the wings of Deidara's angelic rival, stealing them for himself. He longed to fly of his own power, longed to be blameless and good and innocent and unbiased. Those dreams Sasori couldn't rid himself of.

Every time they fought together, Sasori relished it. Because they were angels at what they did: they were perfect. Remorseless and unapologetic. Graceful, elegant. And then Sasori could watch Deidara get the closest to holy status as he'd ever get. He would use his off-white wings of clay, and rain down fire and explosions like heavenly judgment on those below. Sasori couldn't see why he called it 'art'; this was _beyond_ art. Art was meant to be a mortal device to demonstrate beauty for all time. This was quick, efficient, equalizing. That was not the work of a mortal longing to call himself an artist.

So that was why Sasori couldn't help but laugh--a coarse, harsh, cold laugh--whenever Hinata would ruefully accuse him of looking too 'angelic'.


	7. Can't I Sleep With You?

It was her own fault, she told herself. She had no one to blame but herself. Hinata rubbed her arms, though it was a warm night with an equally warm rain. Not even rain; it was more like a fine mist. She darted furtive glances all around her, expecting some horrible monster to jump out of a shadow and maim her. She darted from light source to light source, staying in the shadows as little as possible.

She actually jumped and screamed when a stray cat knocked over a trash can trying to get away from her. Hinata laughed nervously, rubbing her arms again. A kunoichi of her caliber, shrieking like a scared little girl? It was embarrassing…

At least, it would have been embarrassing if she wasn't so _scared_. This was the absolute last time that Deidara conned her into watching a horror movie! And now she had to walk home in the middle of the night--she had been terrified of it, of course, but she wouldn't allow herself to stay at the tower and show him how much that movie had actually scared her. After all, she was a kunoichi. She wasn't supposed to get scared at small, pale children who killed screaming women and fleeing men in dark roads and alleys just like the one she was walking down…

_No! Stop thinking about it_, she reprimanded herself, shaking her head. She was already more than halfway home, and if need be, Hinata was fairly certain she could take on a mere child…even if it _was_ a demonic monster bent on trapping her soul for an eternity in its--_Stop it!!_

Hinata made it home at a dead sprint.

Neji was still awake; that she should be embarrassed about. He looked up dully from the couch. He had been reading a book, Kisho sitting beside him, feigning sleep. "Did you enjoy your movie?" he asked. He sounded fully aware of the fact that she had not.

Hinata shot him a glare and stomped off to bed.

"Do you need me to tuck you in and keep the hallway light on to keep the monsters away?" he called after her. She threw her sandals at him, missing but hitting Kisho instead.

"Stupid humans, have your fight elsewhere," he muttered and just rolled over.

"I'm not speaking to either of you!" Hinata shouted from her room. She slipped into her pajamas at record speed and was under the covers soon after, blankets thrown over her head. A few minutes later, she heard Neji go to bed as well down the hall. Great; he had been staying up just for her. Now she felt bad _and_ scared.

She couldn't sleep. It wasn't even nightmares. Hinata couldn't even get to that point. She just couldn't fall asleep, trying not to picture what was probably crawling on her ceiling or staring at her this very moment.

Just in case, she turned her Byakugan on and checked.

Nothing. Neji was sleeping down the hall, and Kisho was still asleep on the couch. No small, white-skinned, dark-haired children watching her. …That she could see, at any rate.

Sometime during the night, Hinata must have drifted off, because she awoke. She awoke to something dripping on her face. White eyes blearily opened. She ran a wrist over her eyes, trying to get back to sleep.

Then she noticed that she felt a weight on her stomach.

Hinata slowly reopened her eyes, and turned her head to look down at her stomach.

The covers were all red. Dark red. And she just now noticed the scent of blood. But those were dismissed easily when she saw that it was a bloody mass of feathers and flesh.

She screamed and actually used a _Shunshin_ to get out of there. She was _not_ going to waste time running after _that_.

-.-.-

Neji was suddenly woken by a screaming Hinata tackling him. "Wh-What--?"

"Niisan-there's-a-dead-thing-in-my-bed-it's-going-to-kill-me!!" she wailed, burrowing her face in his chest.

"A 'dead thing'? _What_ dead thing?" Was she talking about a dead cricket, or a dead human? Either way, he had a feeling that the movies she had watched with Deidara had an effect on this…

"I-I don't know," she whimpered, tightening her grip on him.

Neji sighed, wishing he could get back to sleep. Not that he minded their current position, but he wasn't the type of person who particularly enjoyed waking up in the middle of the night. "Do you want me to go take care of it for you…?"

"No." Hinata detached herself from him long enough to climb under the blankets with him, then reattaching herself to him. "Don't leave me alone."

Kisho came into the room at that point. Judging from his large eyes, he had probably been awake for some time. Neji shot him a 'this is your fault' look; the cat had obviously thought it funny to dump some animal on her bed in the middle of the night to see her reaction.

Kisho sat down in front of the door, curling his tail around his forepaws. He gave Neji a 'don't pretend like you don't like that' look.

The brunette gave up at that point; he wasn't going to get into a glaring contest with a cat. "Hinata, are you--"

"Can't I sleep with you?" She turned to him, bottom lip stuck out and eyes large and pleading. She hadn't used that trick on him since they were children. Chagrined (because he still couldn't resist it), Neji laid back down. Most of his annoyance was dispelled, however, when she stubbornly refused to get out of his arms, and instead fell asleep using his shoulder as a pillow.

-.-.-

"Bya-chan! Wanna watch another movie tonight, yeah?" Deidara asked cheerfully. He was a bit perplexed at the sudden glare Neji shot him; it was sharper than usual. He ignored him, however. That's what he usually did. (Call it a defense mechanism.)

"W-Would you pick out the movie…?" she asked reluctantly, avoiding eye contact.

"No, Sasori-danna decided it's his turn." Deidara rolled his eyes. He was a bit miffed that his partner just chose himself for that, especially since movie nights were usually just his and Hinata's. Oh well; he couldn't entirely blame Sasori. He knew that the redhead was getting more possessive of his time, and was more than a bit jealous of how much Deidara still clung to Hinata. Served him right, though.

She visibly relaxed. "Oh. Well then…sure."

"I'm coming, too," Neji said, a bit more loudly than what was needed. Deidara didn't miss the grateful look Hinata gave him. "Consider it a double date."

Deidara blushed, affronted. Hinata, however, laughed. "That would be cute."

"Uh, yeah…" He rubbed the back of his head, scrambling for a quick way to change the subject. "So then! Tonight, let's say eight?"

"It's a date, then." She smiled warmly at him.

-.-.-

Sasori chose another horror movie.

He chose this because it meant he could kill two birds with one stone. The first was that he could scare the wits out of the Hyuuga girl. The second was that he could scare the wits out of Deidara. Neji was just an added bonus. (After the tournament, he wasn't feeling too kind to any of them.)

Hinata tried to leave after the opening credits, but Deidara wouldn't let her. He just laughed off the fright and tugged her back down onto the floor. They were, yet again, in Sasori's room. Deidara's room was _still_ full of clay, so he'd gotten into the habit of taking his partner's room for his own uses. This included movie night. A blanket was spread on the floor, pillows scattered about. Hinata had already selected one to hide behind. Deidara spent most of the opening sequence making a nest for himself, tearing apart Sasori's bed for this.

"Th-This is…" He was a bit surprised that Hinata recognized it first. Then again, Deidara was busy.

"Yes, this is the sequel to the movie you saw last night. I wanted to see if I can follow the storyline without seeing the first," Sasori lied smoothly. It was going to be worth watching such a stupid movie, he saw, judging on how her face paled.

An hour into the movie, Hinata was no longer watching. She was positively buried in Neji's shirt, several pillows propped up around her as some sort of protective fort. Sasori rolled his eyes. No doubt that was the reason Neji had wanted to come along… Not that he minded. It meant that she stayed off of Deidara.

The blonde, contrary to Sasori's prediction, was avidly watching the movie. He was actually leaning forward, grinning. "Ohh--watch--I bet her head is going to--awesome!" On the TV, the woman's head exploded. Sasori could see how his partner would find that attractive. He just thought the effects were cheap and unrealistic.

The movie ended abruptly after the killer, a mere child who probably couldn't have lifted ten kilos if his life depended on it, turned to the camera and grinned. Deidara, who was leaning even farther forward, suddenly fell flat on his face. Hinata hesitantly looked up from Neji's shirt, pale enough to match her eyes.

"Aww, is that it?!" Deidara sat back up, crossing his arms. "That was a pretty crappy ending, yeah. There should have been more blood and less of those cheap chasing scenes."

"The movie was made by civilians. What did you expect?" Neji asked flatly.

"They could have at least used real blood…" The blonde huffed, and fell back onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "Non-ninja are so unrealistic, yeah. I've never seen blood that spurted like _that_ when you hack into the jugular."

"You should become a film director and create a better movie, then," Sasori said sarcastically. His plan had backfired, at least on Deidara's half. This put him in a sour mood. (And more so because the effects _were_ horribly unrealistic, especially with the blood.) "Now go fix my bed if you expect to sleep in it tonight."

Neji snorted suddenly, trying to keep in a laugh. Sasori frowned when he realized what that must have sounded like, but it wasn't as if he cared. Hinata and Deidara hadn't even caught that, anyway. "Next time, _I'm_ picking the movie," she said faintly. Neji hauled her upright, leading her towards the door. Apparently she was too scared to even stand properly. That was an interesting side-effect. Or maybe she was just weak from all of the hyperventilating.

Once Hinata left--led out by Neji--Deidara collapsed into the pile of pillows she left behind. Sasori raised an eyebrow. "Do I _really_ have to make the bed again? This is pretty comfortable like this, yeah…"

"For you, maybe."

"You don't even have nerve endings. And you don't sleep. Often, yeah."

"For the record, I can feel some semblance of physical touch with my chakra, and I _do_ need to sleep occasionally. I think tonight is one of those nights. So bed. Made. Now."

Deidara rolled over and faked a snore. Sasori leaned over and kicked his back, pushing him off of the pile of pillows. Deidara responded by taking one of them and throwing it back at him. Predictably, it degraded into a pillow fight soon after that.

Nearly an hour later, feathers, pillows and even a few of the weapons that had been on Sasori's desk were scattered around the room. Deidara was exhausted trying to keep up with the puppeteer (who had cheated and used chakra strings to throw several pillows) and was adamant that he wouldn't clean up the mess. But neither was Sasori, of course; since when was he expected to pick up after Deidara?

"Pick up this mess before I do horrible things to you in your sleep."

"You said you're going to be sleeping, too." Deidara only opened an eye, looking at Sasori as if daring him to try something.

"I'll give myself two hours."

"Then I'll do horrible things to you in _your_ sleep, yeah." He closed his eyes again, laying back down on the pillows. Sasori doubted that their definitions of 'horrible things' were the same, however. He honestly wondered which would be the more gruesome.

Sasori didn't reply, and just stayed silent until he was sure Deidara was asleep. Okay, so he wouldn't do _horrible_ things, but he'd still do some pretty nasty things. But every time he moved to get up, the blonde would roll over or move in some way. It was obvious he was faking sleep, but even that could only last so long. Sasori just waited. Impatiently.

"Just go to sleep already!" he finally snapped, kicking Deidara's foot.

"I can't," he replied without moving.

"And why not?"

Deidara rolled over onto his back, raising his head to look at him. "I'm scared that the kid from the movie will rip out my throat," he said solemnly. _How_ he managed to say it with a straight face was beyond Sasori.

"One can only hope," Sasori said grimly, trying not to laugh at him. _Was he actually serious?_ he asked, biting his lip to stop himself from letting out a chuckle.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I."

"Fine then. I hope it _does_ kill me; then you'll be _so sad_ that I'm dead, you'll just try to go kill yourself. Again, yeah." Deidara huffily rolled over, pulling the blanket with him and wrapping himself up like a cocoon. Sasori once again didn't reply, but instead walked over and sat down beside him. The blonde peered out of his nest, face shadowed except for the reflection of the light in his eyes. Slightly creepy, especially considering the movie they had just watched… "Wanna sleep with me?" Deidara asked suddenly, both catching Sasori off guard and dispelling all creepiness from the situation.

"…"

"Not like that, you sick freak." He made a face, sticking his tongue out. "I'm serious, yeah. We can make a tent and that way the kid won't get us."

"You're seriously scared of that thing?" He raised an eyebrow.

"…Not _really_," he fielded, averting his eyes.

Sasori smiled in triumph. "My god, you _are_. You were only putting on a brave front for your princess, hmm?"

"Not just that!" Deidara protested hotly, wiggling in his cocoon. "I knew you'd make fun of me, idiot. And here I am extending the hand of friendship, in case _you're_ scared too, yeah--"

"Friendship my ass. You just want a protector. Fodder, even, in case that twisted child is real."

"…So?"

That was part of what Sasori liked about Deidara. He could be _so_ stupid, so selfish, so entirely…Deidara. And that was why he spent the night under a tent of blankets in a nest of pillows with a sleeping blonde curled in his arms.


	8. Evil Sorcerer

Author's Note & Dedication:This is dedicated to the deviantArt member Justine-Bowder, who won first place in Dark Knight's (first and only) contest! :D It's late, I know, but at least it's done now, right? ^^;

-.-.-

Hinata had been thinking. A lot of it had to do with Deidara, and Sasori, and the Akatsuki in general. No, this wasn't her relationship with any of them--thank god; she didn't need more strife and drama--this was actually her pondering one of the silliest things she had yet in her life.

Where Uchiha Itachi fit in her fairytale.

She would ask Deidara, but knowing how he felt about Itachi, that probably wouldn't be the best idea. He would refuse to include him, or give him some horrible, inappropriate part. Sasori, too, probably wouldn't get the facts straight, and Neji knew next to nothing of the fairytale.

_That means it's up to me_, she had decided.

There were only so many parts in a fairytale, after all. And there _could_ be multiples; Sasori had proven that when he took on the role of a secondary dragon so unassumingly. Then again, the entire Akatsuki were really dragons…no, Konan was a princess, too…and Itachi was a special case, anyway. Actually, she probably should change most of her view on that. Deidara and Sasori were the special cases; the rest of them couldn't just be dragons. That would dilute the two artists' roles in her fairytale. And that was _not_ good. After all, it was Deidara who started the entire thing.

_Okay, so Konan-senpai is the other princess, and Deidara-kun and Sasori-san are both the dragons. That works_, she told herself. _If Konan-senpai is a princess… Does that make Leader-sama her knight_? The mere thought of Pein being chivalrous made her giggle.

"Finding something more humorous than the _Utakata_ jutsu?" Itachi interrupted smoothly. Hinata blanched, jarred back into her current situation. Right, it was genjutsu lesson time with Itachi! Her _favorite_ time of day, of course…

"N-No!" Nowadays, he was the _only_ one that could bring her stutter back so regularly. That had to count for something in a fairytale, right? "But…"

"…But?" he prompted flatly. Hinata could tell that he was not in the mood for such silliness, so she hastily ducked her head and apologized. The lesson went on as planned. (The _Utakata_ really was a useful genjutsu, anyway. She was lucky he was putting up with her enough to teach it to her.)

But, just a few days later, Hinata found her mind wandering again towards that topic. She had nailed down a few other Akatsuki member's roles in the fairytale, too; Pein was, indeed, Konan's knight, and Hidan was a priest (they had those in fairytales, didn't they?) whereas Kakuzu was the crotchety, greedy old man. That title, was, of course, courtesy of Deidara and Sasori, who found it utterly amusing. Hinata was a bit lost, until they took turns explaining an old fable of a man who let his greed get the better of him, and eventually accidentally sold his soul to a demon, but she didn't get that, either. _That_ wasn't her fairytale… But she could think of nothing better for Kakuzu, so he was stuck as that. Poor guy.

Kisame's role was very much tied in with Itachi's, so Hinata was again stuck after that.

_What would Itachi-senpai be, if we were all in a fairytale…?_ she asked herself repeatedly. Yet again, it got in the way of her concentration, so yet again, Itachi lost patience with her.

"_What_ is on your mind that you're not trembling when I mention the _Tsukuyomi_?" he asked, almost exasperated. As if Uchiha Itachi could feel such an emotion. Hinata gave a start, though mostly because she hadn't realized he was talking about her most-hated technique.

"Wh-What?"

"You're distracted. Take a moment to work it out, or drop it now," he said flatly. She stared at him, and he stared evenly back with black eyes, for which she was thankful. Plus, that eye color meant he wasn't _really_ angry with her, at least not yet.

"I-I can't work it out… Not on my own. S-Sorry, Itachi-senpai." Hinata lowered her gaze to her lap. "I'll try to concentrate more n-now…"

"What is it you're so bent on figuring out?" Her head snapped back up, staring at him incredulously. It wasn't as if he looked particularly interested, or curious. Itachi looked thoroughly disinterested, in fact. He probably was just trying to speed along the interruption, but the fact that he would fake some small amount of concern for her problem was…mind-boggling.

"Um…" It took her a moment to really even register what he'd said. And now, when she had to say it out loud, it just sounded _stupid_…

"…Yes?" Itachi said, narrowing his eyes a bit. She paled and tried to come up with something to cover herself with. And fast.

"…Um…" That probably wasn't the best method of stalling, but Hinata wasn't particularly creative under pressure.

Itachi sighed at that point, and Hinata would have bet anything that he had rolled his eyes. _Rolled his eyes_. Oh damn, she was farther along to her doom than she'd initially thought. He stood up, brushing invisible particles of dirt off of his uniform. Hinata did all she could to not duck and cower. But instead of a blow or horrid genjutsu, like she was expecting, she just heard the clicking of his heels on the floor below. Hesitantly, she peeked up through her fingers, unimaginably relieved to find that he was only pacing.

"This problem of yours," he said without preamble, "Is becoming a problem of _mine_. You can't concentrate properly, which is a stretch for you on a good day, and now it's just giving me a headache to try to teach you some sense and basic genjutsu."

Hinata had a few choice things to say to that. The first on her list was that she _could_ concentrate properly if he wasn't so freaky all of the time, and that was followed closely by the fact that what he was attempting to teach her was _not_ 'basic' by anyone's standards. Not even the Akatsuki's. But she kept silent, because it was quite apparent that Itachi was not one to be interrupted at this point.

He tilted his head back, glaring at the ceiling as if it had wronged him. "Knowing you as much as I do, I can only hazard a guess that this has to do with one of three things. Your love life, Deidara, or that ridiculous fairytale of yours. Of course, the lines are very blurry between those, and I could be entirely wrong and you might have just found the second talking cat I had tailing you--"

"_What_?!" Hinata shrieked, jaw dropping. Kisho was bad enough--but a _second_ spy? He had once made the mistake of saying that with some speed training and the element of surprise, she could take even an Uchiha in genjutsu, and now was as good of a time as any to test that theory.

But then, Hinata realized that Itachi had stopped his pacing to face her. And he was, in fact, _smirking_.

"…" _Had that last statement been a…joke? No--it couldn't be. This is _Itachi_, after all. Was he just seeing if I was paying attention?_ she thought, watching him through narrowed eyes. Through her lashes and with that slight, evil smile, she couldn't help but notice the strong family resemblance he shared with Sasuke.

"Is the problem pertaining to your love life?" he asked, voice completely at odds with the expression on his face. In fact, Hinata now doubted whether or not it was a smirk at all; it could easily be a trick of the light.

"No," she muttered, scowling as hard as she dare in his general direction. As if _her_ love life was any of _his_ business, anyway… She wasn't some lovesick kunoichi who let her infatuations get the better of her all the time. _…Not all of the time, anyway_, she amended.

"Deidara?"

"N-Not really."

"Your asinine fairytale?"

"Slightly." Hinata looked away, crossing her arms over her chest. Neji she could forgive, but she'd be in trouble if Itachi could start reading her that easily… Though maybe it would mean she'd never have to talk in his presence again. That could be a plus. Making up a rather lame lie on the spot, she added, "Deidara-kun and I were discussing where _you_ would fit in, Itachi-senpai…"

"You are being distracted because of _that_?" It was hard to miss the disdain dripping from the last word.

Sullenly and rebelliously, she nodded.

Itachi plopped back down on the cushion opposite her. But no--Uchiha Itachi never _plopped_, because everything he and his entire clan did was graceful. Even if Hinata had never seen him move so lazily, she knew he couldn't be compared to regular mortals' movements like that. _Should he be some deity?_ she asked herself, only half-joking. _No; he'd probably like that title too much…_

"…I thought the entire Akatsuki were assigned the title of 'dragon'," he said politely, titling his head a bit to one side.

"Konan-senpai's a princess, too…" Hinata admitted.

"Does that make Leader-sama her knight?"

_How come _he_ thought of that right away? I just thought of that the other day…_she thought, mentally hanging her head. Even her genjutsu teacher had more creativity with the fairytale than she did. "More or less."

"What roles are still open?" he inquired.

"I…don't know. There was never really any set roles." Hinata averted her eyes from his polite stare, wishing she had a clock to know when it would be easiest to bow out of this embarrassing situation. Here she was, in the middle of Amegakure and the Akatsuki, talking about fairytales with Uchiha Itachi! Even she had her limits. Abuse and passive-aggressiveness she could handle; having a civil conversation with him she could not. It was as if Sasori had suddenly become kind, or Deidara suddenly being hostile towards her. It just didn't _happen_.

"…What is Sasuke, then?"

Hinata snapped back to attention. That was the first time she could remember him ever mentioning his brother, let alone the fact that he alluded to her past connection with him. But this was a vain hope for him, as she had never assigned Sasuke a role, either… "I-I don't know. Deidara-kun and I never really…"

Itachi set his chin in his hand, looking at the floor in thought. He didn't say anything for the longest time. In fact, Hinata had honestly been wondering if he had fallen asleep with his eyes open when he finally spoke. "…In that case, I would like to be the evil sorcerer."

It took several moments for his words to fully sink in. And when it did, Hinata blinked, and then burst out laughing. "A-Are you _playing along_?"

"I am completely serious."

That only made it more funny. It was nearly five full minutes later before she could even look at him again, and even so, she was still grinning and choking back giggles. "Wh-Why would you want to be a-a _sorcerer_, Itachi-senpai…?"

"I believe I put the 'evil' title in front of it. Isn't that how you view me?" She abruptly stopped grinning and flushed.

"I-I wouldn't call you _e-evil_--"

"Regardless, it seems a fitting adjective for my current standing in the world." He cut across her smoothly, and Hinata bowed her head and let him speak. It was wiser to back down when it came to any of the Akatsuki members; they, as a rule, didn't like to be interrupted. "And I do like the 'sorcerer' label as well. They're usually one of the more powerful characters, often with unique skills, and there are more similarities that come to mind now that I think of it…" As he trailed off, she took it as a sign to speak once more.

"Um… Like what?"

He turned to her with a blank expression. "Similarities?"

"Yes."

Itachi looked down for a brief moment, before looking at her once more. "I do not claim to be any sort of expert on fairytales, but… Sorcerers are usually the ones who are most misunderstood, and are also usually the first to switch sides if they feel that their interests are threatened."

Hinata bit off the first response that came to mind, since it concerned the Uchiha massacre. Obviously, that was what he was referring to; what else _could_ he be? "Does… Does that make Sasuke a sorcerer, too?" He had mentioned Sasuke first, so she considered him fair game.

"It could. Does anyone who possess the Sharingan immediately become one?" he challenged, sounding almost amused. She was a bit taken aback by this. He sure was expressive that day!

"…Sure?" She didn't know what else to say. It wasn't as if she had any other roles for Sasuke in mind…though Deidara had once requested that the youngest Uchiha become the 'fag vampire'… She didn't think Itachi would find as much humor in that as Deidara did, however.

"Hatake Kakashi?"

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn't hear him. "Ex-Excuse me?"

"The Copy-nin. He isn't an Uchiha, but he still has the Sharingan in one eye. Would he be a sorcerer as well?" Itachi asked seriously.

Hinata smiled uncertainly, trying to keep up with him. Why was he suddenly so interested in the fairytale? Just because he was included? She hadn't meant to include so many people in it, after all, and she barely knew Kakashi! It was originally just a dragon, a knight, and a princess. Just like that, though, a sudden thought struck her. "Oh! Itachi-senpai, I know a different role you could play!"

"…Hm?" He didn't sound overly interested, though whether this was because he actually _wasn't_ interested or because he'd gotten attached to the idea of him being a sorcerer, she didn't know.

"I-If I'm a princess, and I'm the Hyuuga heir, then since you're the Uchiha heir, you could be the prince!"

He wasn't amused by this, if his flat look was anything to go by. "…The prince," he repeated dully.

"Um… Y-Yes… It seemed like it made sense at the time…"

"Wouldn't Sasuke fit that role better? He's younger." He seemed to be trying to get rid of the potential title switch, but she wouldn't get rid of her own reasons just for him.

"I'm the older sister in my family, but I'm still the heir; I thought that was how it worked… Weren't you the heir before…you…left?" She didn't know how else to phrase it, and she thought she had done a fair job of avoiding the word 'massacre'.

"…I _was_ the heir," Itachi admitted, seeming reluctant, "But that changed with the death of my clan. I'm fairly certain that Sasuke has taken up the title of 'heir' now."

"…Fine, then," she replied, finally relenting. "Sasuke can be the prince, and you'll stick with your sorcerer title." For good measure, Hinata stuck her tongue out at him. He gave her a small, smug smile in return.

"I prefer it. It has a connotation of strength."

"And misunderstanding," she added under her breath.

He seemed to hear her, however, and just had to get in the final word on the subject. "Yes, _and_ misunderstanding. Now, as the evil sorcerer, I automatically have permission to be cruel to the princess in order to teach her some sense. Get up; you're still not done learning how to hit someone when in a genjutsu."

The lesson continued, even if Hinata and Itachi continued to call each other 'princess' and 'sorcerer', just to be spiteful.

Later that week, Hinata took out her camera. She decided that her fairytale had gone on far enough without a proper record of it; it was getting rather confusing. She found each of the members in her fairytale and took a picture, writing on the back of each which role they filled. Sasuke was the only one not to get one, but that was easily explained, since she couldn't very well go hunting him down for a simple photo.

Most of the members ended up getting multiple pictures. After the initial, spontaneous picture, they demanded an explanation, and then ordered her to take a better one. Konan was quite amused by this, especially when she got to try to pose both herself and Pein in 'princess-y' and 'knight-y' poses. Hidan was likewise pleased with his role, but Kakuzu was not. Hinata actually had to run to Sasori for protection, and hastily blamed the nickname on the redhead. Sasori wasn't amused with this, but it allowed her to get a clean getaway.

"What does this make Kisame?" Itachi asked, after getting caught unawares by her camera.

Hinata started to reply, and then promptly blanched when she realized that she didn't have a title for the Kiri-nin yet. Itachi turned and walked away, triumphantly escaping with only one photo taken of him. And Hinata spent the next week and a half trying to figure out the rest of the Akatsuki's fairytale roles.

It only got progressively worse after that; just when she thought she was done, Sasori calmly asked her, "What about Kabuto? Has he gotten a proper title? I noticed you gave the Copy-nin one, and you can't very well have him without Kabuto."

She didn't know what that meant, but Hinata knew when to give up. "That's it! I quit. This fairytale is staying _exactly as it is_ from now until forever; no more additions! Deidara-kun and Sasori-san are dragons, Konan-senpai is the other princess, Leader-sama is her knight, Neji-niisan is _my_ knight, Itachi-senpai is the evil sorcerer, and everyone else can decide their own damned roles!"

"I thought Kabuto had been a dragon, too, yeah," Deidara remarked, unfazed by her outburst. "You also forgot the little Uchiha and the rest of the Akatsuki, Bya-chan."

"Bah! _You_ work on that, then! You're the author of that fairytale, anyway!"

"You're doing a good job of it, though." He grinned at her, trying (and failing) to seem apologetic.

Sasori, beside him, nodded. "I thought you got most of the titles down quite well. Itachi's particularly."

"…Huh?"

"Well, he not only is the 'sorcerer', showing just how manipulative and underhanded he is--genjutsu and personality both--but you pegged him as the '_evil_ sorcerer'. It was pretty clever to name him that, especially as he managed to get you this flustered with a simple conversation."

It took a few moments for the Suna-nin's words to sink in, but when they did, Hinata was not a happy kunoichi. "He-He did this on purpose!" Spluttering and fuming, she stomped off to find her genjutsu teacher.

Deidara, frowning, turned to his partner. "Sometimes, I wonder just how much you collaborate with the Uchiha bastard on this, yeah."

"I hardly ever speak to him. We just have similar tastes in liking to mess with your princess' head. The only difference is that my reasons are much more spiteful than his." Sasori shrugged innocently. "Even stoic Akatsuki members such as us have to get our amusement from _somewhere_."


End file.
